


breóst-hord

by solitariusvirtus



Series: AU! Concepts [16]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, no regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 11:23:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20834651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus
Summary: Blood pooled from the wound in the man’s throat as Jon avoided the lunging creature. He managed to capture and entrap the flailing limbs of what surely was a madwoman. Somewhere behind him his sister was screaming, but he hadn’t the time to comfort her.AU! A run-in with a horde of wights goes awry. Who could have possibly seen that coming?





	breóst-hord

Aegon grabbed at his shoulder, pulling him back with seemingly praeternatural force. Jon barely kept from screaming as pain pulsed from the gaping wound his brother’s fingers inavertedly pressed into. Not that his esteemed elder sibling had any time to give thought to that. Unfortunately for Aegon, the small interlude allowed Jon to regain his bearing, followed by a swift shove against the steadying hand of the prince and a mad dash for the waves of walking corpses.

Their shuffling held little to his speed, even tempered by the gash in his shoulder. Unfortunately for Jon, he did not quite make it in time even with all the effort.

* * *

The discoloured skin around her blue-tinted lips offered very little information about the way she’d met her end. Nonetheless, Rhaegar kept staring at her face, as though she could and indeed would wake and speak. But Lyanna was not coming back. “Why?”

“I found out much too late.” His son’s voice rose over the inner turmoil brewing beneath his skin. “Jon did his best to reach her, but it was too late.”

“How could you not have known?” Aegon frowned. And yet it was very much like Lyanna, to thoughtlessly throw herself into the fray. She ought to have known better than that. 

* * *

Rhaenys kept her silence as she continued stroking her brother’s hair. The effects of the milk of the poppy were wearing off and consciousness was gaining ground. It might have been smarter that she remove to her own chamber, but Jon had lost his mother and arguably the use of his hand for the foreseeable future. The least she could do was offer some comfort, whether he wanted it or not.

Grey eyes opened slowly, the bleary gaze unfocused. Jon’s lips moved, mouthing something she could not catch. In the next moment, however, he shot up straight, seemingly having forgotten about his extensive injuries.

* * *

“You shouldn’t.” Jon had little patience for the acolyte standing before him. Instead, he took another step forward and demanded he be allowed to leave the chamber. Rhaenys had been trying to keep him abed, and to her credit, she had good reason to. It was simply that he had better reason to exert himself.

“Out of my way.” His demand was met with further protest. Jon was aware he hadn’t a chance to push the man to the side, try though he might.

Thusly, he turned back towards his sister and put on his best pleading expression. “Please.” Something in her gaze softened. “Rhaenys.”

* * *

Blood pooled from the wound in the man’s throat as Jon avoided the lunging creature. He managed to capture and entrap the flailing limbs of what surely was a madwoman. Somewhere behind him his sister was screaming, but he hadn’t the time to comfort her. His shoulder burned with pain, muscles trembling beneath the force of his efforts. “Chain, now!” he barked.

Someone with more presence of mind than Rhaenys threw him one. It landed short of the mark, forcing him to kick his mother’s legs from underneath her, forcing her to the ground, pressing all his weight into her squirming body as his free hand groped for salvation.

* * *

“How is this possible?” Jon hadn’t lied. The terrifying truth skittered down his spine, chilling fingers of premonition leaving their mark. The creature, which looked remarkably like the host it had infested, struggled against the bonds holding her near a wall. Even if she could have come closer, the bars should have done a decent job of keeping her away. Or rather the sharp, deadly rows of teeth tearing through flesh and sinew.

“Staring at her won’t help matters. We must burn the body,” Jon attempted to restore sanity to the situation. Something told him he was going to fail. His father gave him a sharp look. 

* * *

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

“Reconsider, father,” Aegon asked, his voice kind, but firm. “Keeping her like this won’t bring back Lady Lyanna. She’s gone and this thing is doomed to bear out a tortured existence.” Jon had explained about the wights, their endless hunger and seeming mindlessness. “And she is a danger to the rest of us.”

“I am capable of coming to my own decisions,” his father snapped, still eyeing the woman gorging herself on freshly carved chunks of meat. Gore gave colour to her flesh in spots and splatters. Aegon shuddered at the savagery of her mannerisms. That was not Lady Lyanna, not in the least. 

* * *

“That cannot be healthy,” Aegon muttered, poking the flame-split wood with a sharp implement. “He’s come to resemble the dead more and more himself.” The uncharitable comment was met with a protest from Rhaenys. “If you would but exert yourself to see him burning–“

“It is not as though I have not made attempts over and over again,” on glowered over his brother’s implied imputation. “Might be if someone had not attempted to set the thing on fire to begin with, there would not be so many guards to contend with.”

“It helps naught to throw blame from one to the other,” their sister intervened, the voice of reason flickering dangerously close to tears. 

* * *

There was a fine line between adoration and obsession. Jon was fairly certain those with dragon blood were wholly proficient in exhibiting the latter even when it was of a sweeter note than its darker kin. He hauled his sire backwards as Ser Arthur slammed the gate, locking what had once been his mother away. Deep red stains and a missing finger was what his pestering the creature had earned his father. The former Lady Lyanna slammed herself gracelessly against the bars of her cage.

“She knew me.” It was barely a whisper. “Just now.”

She’d hesitated for the merest moment. “Not well enough not to bite,” Jon said, staring at the writing monstrosity.

* * *

“Are you certain about this?” Rhaenys questioned, eyes not removing from Ser Arthur’s mien as the man deposited the body in its crate. Long since softened, the corpse offered no opposition.

“Of course not,” Jon sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “But it is all I can think to do. If naught may be done, I shall simply burn her.”

“Or we could do the sensible thing and burn her now, before father wakes and has a change to stop us, or she wakes and murders us all.” Aegon snapped impatiently. Jon glared at his brother. “Very well, the crypts of Winterfell it is. Be in on your head.”

“It has always been,” Jon muttered to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> What's better than Lyanna kicking ass and taking names? Obvs, a flesh-eating, mightmare-inducing, kicking-ass-and-taking-names Lyanna.
> 
> Halloween approaches. It seems appropriate to pay tribute.


End file.
